


No Harm, No Fowl

by Anonymous



Series: More Than You Can Chew [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Belly Expansion, But this is a punishment so, Deities, Egg Laying, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feeding, Inflation, It's thanksgiving themed smut what do you want, Kinda, Magical Punishment, Other, Oviposition, Partial Animal Transformation, Stuffing, Things aren't explained properly ahead of time, Transformation, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21592762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There are only a few ways to piss off an affable harvest spirit, and bringing a kidnapped child to a temple is one of them. Corbin finds out personally what sorts of creative punishments such a spirit designs.Pick one food to eat, deal with the effects. Simple, right? And he can't miss the opportunity to eat turkey.
Series: More Than You Can Chew [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854058
Comments: 8
Kudos: 117
Collections: Anonymous





	No Harm, No Fowl

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only a little sorry for the pun.

Golden-orange rays made their ways through clouds as fluffy and textured as plowed fields, painting the cool earth below in the fiery tones of autumn. Warm smoke lifted into the air as people settled in for supper with their families--all but a few.

One man made his way to the temple of the town: a large open building astride the nearest fields of waving grains and orchards plump with fruit.

Corbin looked as ragged as he felt inside, dark hair in messy matted spikes, clothes warm enough for the current season, but worn, and with a face which reminded one of a goose chasing after any who dared enter its territory, beady eyes focused in sheer anger.

Unlike a goose, however, the man was nearly perfectly silent, while the shorter girl stumbling in front of him trembled. As her intertwined hands and shivers gave away, she obviously would have preferred to either run or simply drop to the ground and cry. She did, in fact, let out tremulous sobs as they moved past the first columns of the temple and onto the well-packed dirt and reed mats which made its floor.

Panting, Corbin shoved his way in through the isles, past the numerous offerings of gourds and sheaves of barley, pushing the frightened girl as he went. Blindfolded, she tripped over many different foods; Corbin drove her back in the correct direction each time.

She was the young daughter of the richest family in the town, and considering the number of gifts piled high in the temple to the harvest spirit, that said quite a lot.

The town was obviously loaded, and soon he could be, too.

His thoughts kept repeating as he found his way behind the main altar and the bountiful offerings placed on its surface. It would be tall enough to hide himself and the girl, at least until he could extract the money for the girl’s safe “return.” He’d take the money and run, if everything went according to plan. People would check in the temple to pray for the girl and find her there. No harm done; So long as the girl’s parents cooperated, or no one entered the temple before then.

He patted the knife hidden at his waist, under his threadbare coat, where hopefully it could stay, unneeded.

He was just about ready to tie the girl up to a solid structure and head out when a strange feeling descended. An unsettling chill blew through the air, whistling and wailing through the columns of the temple. And beyond that, oddly enough, was the thick smell of rich foods--creamy soups and rich pies tantalizing the senses. It was far too early for the harvest festival though, _“So where could the smell be coming from?”_ thought Corbin.

He rested a hand on the knife under his cloak, and after demanding the girl stay where she was, stalked quietly around the altar and through the temple the way they’d entered. 

No one was there.

The smell only got stronger, and each time Corbin blinked, he noticed his vision getting blurrier. Even rubbing at his eyes did nothing.

Spooked enough to start backtracking towards his hostage, he got only a few steps closer to the altar before getting the feeling of falling. His body jerked forward and backwards as his mind spun, trying to figure out which way he was tilting. No particular direction presented itself though, he just had the sensation of “falling.” Even the area around him seemed to wobble and pass him by in every direction at once.

Corbin screamed out, a quick burst of surprised yelling before the floor knocked the air out of him.

Noting he was somehow still on his feet and stable, he took quick stock of himself; his body was uninjured. 

He was also tied up.

 _How could it be possible?_ he wondered. But it was as clear as the sun had been through the clouds. Held above his head, his arms were tied in a way which felt overly intricate for something done so quickly. After all, he couldn’t have been falling for more than a couple minutes, right? And he’d arrived in this new place barely a few seconds ago.

Actually, as he took a look around the place, he realized he was correct--he was in a new place, completely separate from the temple he’d been in not moments ago. What caused all this? Magic?

The area currently around him was more akin to a large dining hall, with only one long table in the middle, and multiple candles lighting the place where the small, high windows did not provide light. The only thing the two places had in common was the vast amounts of fresh food placed about, in supplication to the harvest spirit.

As if his thoughts summoned her, a woman swept through a large, beautiful archway on the other end of the room, one Corbin swore had not existed before.

The woman was tall, with broad shoulders, strong, muscled limbs like a farmer, and a generous figure clearly borne of plentiful eating. Corbin’s stomach rumbled at the thought of food. However, he was not so foolish as to try to take the harvest spirit's offerings, a decision which left him little choice but to use other means to survive.

With the excited, focused expression of a cat scenting out a fresh meal, the woman sashayed over to where Corbin hung, tilting her head at him.

“What a predicament,” she said, looking up at his bindings before roving down to him. She did not stop at his face though, looking all the way down to his toes and back up. “Honestly, you have been so respectful, even if it was more out of fear than any true respect, but I cannot overlook this.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Not willing to admit to it?” So she knew about his scheme then. “Ah, that’s not unusual, but it’d be better to own up to it you know, maybe apologize?”

What, so she could blackmail him back? Take a cut of the money he was going to make? Make him run special favors for her? He knew what sorts of games the rich liked to play. He’d played them before himself, in his youth, and he didn’t have time for them now.

“What do you want?” he asked harshly.

The woman hummed, her eyes falling in disappointment. “Well, I suppose we can cut right to it then.”

She gestured behind her with a grand wave of her hand. The table in the middle of the room jumped forward to sit a mere five feet away, and suddenly it was bursting with food. Roasted meats with sweet sauces dazzled his senses; Salty stewed vegetables mixed with the smell of hot, buttery bread; Tart, fruity sweets glistened next to goblets of heady smelling wines.

Corbin had to glance away, his mouth watering. How much he wanted that food, yet he would not entertain this woman’s little games. She had yet to answer his question.

She did, in fact, wait a moment before deciding to speak.

“Corbin, you have desecrated a temple of mine, the glorious harvest spirit whom watches over numerous towns and the farmers therein. By bringing your dirty deeds into my temple--my homes when not in my realm--you disgrace me and the people who so lovingly maintain them. And during the harvest season, no less!”

Corbin simply stared, eyes widening with each word. No, it couldn’t be. The harvest spirit did not meddle in the mortal realm in this way. She was not a punisher.

And yet, it may have been Corbin’s fault, after all. Even he had to admit he had never committed a crime within a temple before now. He simply didn’t have any safer place he could think of this time. Dammit.

The magic the woman performed would be difficult, nay, impossible for any simple magician. All the food on the table steamed, freshly cooked and prepared. She had to be the harvest spirit.

He swallowed. His tongue was too heavy to speak.

The woman sighed and flicked her hand at the bounty of food. “You may have your pick. One food or a small selection of it. Whatever you pick, you must eat it all. This is a challenge as well as a punishment. Once done eating, you must of course, deal with the effects.”

After a moment of disbelief, Corbin looked back at the food, feeling his mouth water. He stared at the woman from the side of his eyes.

“Whatever I choose?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“...Will you let me down?”

“And deal with this?” She asked teasingly, flicking her finger against the place where his hidden knife rested. “No. I will feed the food to you. This will also ensure you eat it all, with no tricks.”

She really thought eating was a punishment? Corbin took in a deep breath. Well, he was going to pick something he’d enjoy, something which would have even the most stuck up of nobles drooling. He deserved to have something worth his while, if this challenge made him lose his captive, and therefore potential money.

Mind decided, he said, “The turkey.”

The plate he pointed out was indeed magnificent, a bird bigger than any Corbin had seen, likely weighing in at something over thirty pounds. The whole thing looked evenly roasted, crispy skin brushed with a clear glaze, decorated with artfully placed fresh herbs, and a bounty of bread stuffing just visible within it.

“Ah, going for the main course I see?” The spirit nodded. “Very well.”

She summoned the turkey over on its silver platter and began taking pieces off with her well-groomed but calloused hands. It was fascinating to watch as the food fell apart at her touch, as though her very will was something the food desperately wished to obey. Obviously she was the goddess of harvest, but the magic made sense more when Corbin didn’t think on it.

The first bite which passed his lips immediately distracted him from any other thoughts.

Juicy and tender, the leg meat slid so easily down his throat he almost felt as if the bite hadn’t happened at all. He eagerly took in the next, and the next, the bitter spices contrasting perfectly with the sweeter glaze, all of it swirling enticingly around the natural salt of the meat. He had finished off an entire leg of the turkey before he even registered what was happening around him.

Smiling, clearly pleased, the spirit pulled at the tougher bits around the bone of the bird. “Even these. There will be no waste here. Eat up.”

Corbin opened his mouth with no complaints. He’d never turned down food like this, especially when even the gristle on this turkey tasted so good. He almost felt bad about eating up such a good bird from the harvest spirit. Almost.

The next leg of the turkey he slowed himself, admiring and registering the taste. He felt it, too, slide down and settle in his stomach.

Soon, Corbin realized he would need to pace himself, lest he ruin perfectly good food by bringing it back up. Besides, that might also make him lose the challenge.

So he paced himself, the spirit looking perfectly amiable with the arrangement, merely holding out each bite for Corbin and waiting with patience until he took it between his teeth. He felt his stomach spreading out in a way it hadn’t for a long time. He was almost full. He thought he might take a break to digest everything, or would have, if he hadn’t needed to finish the rest of an entire turkey.

His stomach gurgled over the amount of meat he was stuffing into it, with two full turkey legs and even more on the way to join it.

Though he didn’t feel sick, the pressure was beginning to make Corbin uncomfortable. He groaned around a few bites before holding back his noises. They wouldn’t help, and he didn’t want the spirit to think he was giving up. She was already giving him a self-satisfied smirk.

So as his stomach held more and more food, Corbin began deeper breaths to keep his resolve.

Between two bites, he looked down and had to take another calming breath at the sight. Where before his abdomen showed he was clearly malnourished, his belly protruded, a sight he’d only managed to see when he’d had access to truly obscene amounts of food. It was as though he’d grown a small paunch over the course of just- wait, how long had it been? Not more than an hour but, but it wasn’t possible with the way his belly was pushing out his tunic.

“Come now,” the harvest spirit chided. Corbin brought back his attention as she placed another bite of succulent meat at his lips. “You have quite a ways more to go.”

Quite a ways was an understatement. He’d barely made a dent in the main body of the turkey, and he had to eat every bit of meat and gristle from its bones. He could only be thankful the organs had been removed for the stuffing.

So bite after bite went into his mouth and down his gullet, his tunic feeling tighter around him in ways he didn’t think were possible before.

He was thin, he knew this. He was fast and wiry and looked mean around the eyes. But now one part of him, at least, was soft and rounded and obviously well fed. His stomach pushed out and around itself, overstuffed and straining the only tunic he had. He honestly felt uncomfortable with the way his clothes pushed against him, the way they constricted his currently growing stomach, making the already mounting pressure feel even more disagreeable. He panted between bites, groaned a few times as he shifted in an attempt to help, but he couldn’t do much with his arms up, muscles tense and tugging at his torso in a way which made his stomach too tight.

His torso was stretched tight enough Corbin had no problem seeing his stomach as it grew.

If he saw correctly past the slight blur in his eyes, he already looked like he had managed to shove a live chicken inside himself, and he was only halfway through the turkey’s body. A hand on his cheek startled him, and he looked up to see the spirit with her hands raised, thumbs brushing over his cheek and eyes.

“Come now, you’re doing so well. No need for these.”

Corbin was confused until he realized the blur in his vision had come from a slight amount of tears gathered in his eyes. He blinked the tears away and kept eating.

He ended up needing to do so several more times as he ate, the unbearable pressure mounting as he went; The spirit had to assure him he was capable of finishing, she’d made it so. He certainly hoped she meant it as he felt as though he could burst inside, just allow his stomach to collapse and spread the food, to place it anywhere but the confines it currently pushed against.

When he had barely eaten the last of the bites from the turkey, his stomach grumbled, entirely too loudly.

Corbin whimpered and looked down again, amazed and a bit frightened what he had done, what he’d allowed to happen.

His stomach pushed out, even his ill-fitting tunic barely wrapped around it, having ridden up while his pants and belt had pushed down closer to his hips. It was like he’d gotten a solid, large beer gut all at once, with no other parts of his body showing the effects. Or perhaps, more fittingly, as though he’d shoved most of a turkey inside him. It was disconcerting and wildly uncomfortable.

“I did say this was to be a punishment,” the spirit said. She was looking him over and nodded approvingly. “Still, I would like to make sure you get through this well.”

She reached out and slid his tunic up, exposing the bare skin of his belly, then she undid his belt, allowing it and the knife to drop to the floor. Corbin tried to complain but stopped at the feeling of the spirit’s hands on his belly.

“I’m only going to do this once before we continue, alright? Make you just a bit more comfortable.”

She began rubbing her hands over Corbin’s stomach, gentle for the most part, though she rubbed in just a little at certain places where the muscles were more tense or cramped.

Corbin sighed and relaxed into it. It was a break, and a far better feeling than whatever he’d felt for the past few hours. He allowed his stomach to be caressed, the taut skin feeling better as the spirit ran her hands over it. The food-stuffed organ gurgled and groaned within him, and he could only agree. He felt a bit like groaning himself, as much as he tried to keep them in. Involuntary sounds took far too much willpower to focus on, and he had little time to think of anything else.

That was why it was such a surprise for him when the spirit finally moved away and picked up the first handful of stuffing.

“Open wide hun.”

Corbin shook his head, trying to widen his eyes past the drooping he felt after so much food. “I- I can’t. Too much, I…”

The spirit _tsked_. “It’s gotta go in. Still, if you can’t swallow anymore, you could take this like a turkey. Yes, I think it’s only fitting.”

When she moved around behind him, Corbin began breathing a bit faster. “Wait, you mean-?” A hand at his pants made his yelp.

“Are you backing out?” she asked. “A punishment can’t be escaped that easily, you know.”

“But, I thought it’s also a challenge?”

“Of course. Which means if you ‘fail,’ as much as one can fail something like this anyway--I’d say quitting counts--if you fail you have to take the full punishment, not just the little amounts I choose for you.”

“What does…?”

“I can’t _tell_ you,” the spirit chided. “Now, deep breaths hun, we’re starting. I promise it’ll be no more uncomfortable than your stomach is.”

It was hardly reassuring. His stomach was currently so overstuffed he looked like he was growing a tiny food baby. Still, the harvest spirit seemed as though she was not to be deterred by anything. And so Corbin tried to take more calming breaths as the spirit pulled his pants down to his ankles, followed by his underclothes, leaving him bare from the top of his stomach down.

“Alright, let’s get you situated a bit different…” she murmured.

Corbin stuttered over his breaths as his arms moved around, dragging them forward just enough to have him bending over, and he was forced to spread his legs to keep his balance. His coat disappeared from his shoulders and his pants and underclothes from his ankles; he barely noticed them appear near his belt. He felt his face flush, but the spirit just patted his thigh.

“Good. Remember, calm, okay?”

The stuffing pushing inside was… something. He’d barely taken anything up there before, only when he was younger and more carefree of a man. Still, he remembered the feeling well enough, and it was nothing like this.

For one, it felt less solid, more like a bunch of, of _mush_ or something was being slowly pushed in. Technically, that was truth, wasn’t it? The other difference was that as the stuffing gathered, the feeling was clearly going to be once direction, just up and up and up as the spirit shoved more stuffing up his hole.

Of course, she wasn’t going to let anything out, either, so though his muscles contracted to push, she needed only swat his rump to get him to stop, and the food stayed in.

The harvest spirit also seemed unworried about how she would get it in further, as she started placing fingers inside with the food with each bit. One became two, became three, and soon she was using four to shove the stuffing further into him. It was odd to have something filling him in that way and to be unable to expel it; Moreso when a thumb joined and the next handful was pushed further in.

The stretch of her fingers, even all together as they were, made him whine. The burn of his rim made him feel sensitive and unreasonably horny, considering the circumstance he was in.

“Enjoying yourself? Some do, despite the punishment aspect. Ah well.” Corbin could hear the smile in her voice.

Handful after handful got pushed into him, his rim gaping wider and wider as she pushed each handful in further. He was panting between groans as she began introducing her entire hand into him. His rim stretched around her knuckles and the amounts of stuffing held in her fingers and palms. Her fistfuls became larger the more he was used to it, until he found himself being regularly fisted, pleasure skittering up his spine and into his head.

When he hung his head down after a particularly loud moan, gasping in air, he took note of how much larger his belly was. Being stuffed from both ends, it was as though he was severely pregnant, but lumpier, softer from the texture of the food.

With the way it expanded his gut and pressed against his belly and the rest of the food inside him, the pressure in the new area was building as well. He moaned and whined as it mounted, feeling and watching as his skin stretched further than he even thought it would, or could.

He had to be so much heavier now, a fact he could feel in the way his weight pulled against his bound arms and back, while pushing down on his legs.

Would he even be capable of walking like this?

No. He was too heavy, too full, stretched all over his belly and asshole with so much pressure he wasn’t certain he could take a single step without bursting inside.

Even with all that though--or maybe, possibly, because of it?--Corbin felt ready to blow a load. The pressure was also sitting atop his dick, rubbing against the head of him as it stood tall and wept precome over the little dome of him before dripping to the floor.

Even some of the stuffing, with the way the spirit shoved her hand so far into him, rubbed against a pleasurable spot inside him, and he couldn’t help but cry out each time it was touched.

Corbin found himself pleading, “Please please just- let me- hngh!”

“Not quite yet dear,” the spirit chided. “Just a few more handfuls. You need to take in every bit of it, remember?”

Oh, he remembered, and how he wished he had questioned it more. It was happening too fast and too slow, all at once. A driving, consistent pace which left him wanting and pushed him relentlessly onward at the same time. When he tried to squirm, he received a swat to his ass for his efforts and a reprimand from the spirit.

Finally, finally, after what felt like another hour to Corbin, the stuffing stopped coming. The spirit's hand withdrew from his rear and did not return.

Footsteps sounded like her walking off, still out of his sight, but it gave him time to contemplate the state of himself. His stomach was still full-to-bursting, and now the rest of his digestive tract seemed on a similar path. With so much inside him, it pulled relentlessly down on his body, though nothing felt like it would come out of either end.

Even when Corbin pushed himself, whimpering and straining until he stood more upright, none of the stuffing slid down. Magic, probably. 

It felt firmly stuck in his gut, too far up to reach, despite the fact the spirit should only have been able to shove it in with a fist. Another oddity about it all was how he felt.

Full, yes. Uncomfortable, yes. But somehow, both of those things only encouraged his arousal, rather than dampening it. He couldn’t see his dick over his swollen belly, but he felt it bumping against the underside, as well as the way his balls tightened for something which seemed would never come.

Even one touch to him would relieve some of the need, he was sure. A touch to his dick, or his stretched midsection, _something_. Anything would help him at this point.

Straining against his binds, however, got him nowhere. The clearly intricate set up held firm, keeping his arms up and steady. Corbin growled in frustration.

“Ah, feeling a bit better?” the spirit asked. She appeared from the side of him, walking into his line of sight. “I’m all cleaned up, and it appears you’ve gotten some of your senses back, so we ought to continue.”

“Continue?” he questioned, fearfully considering the possibility of having to eat even more than he had already.

The harvest spirit laughed. “Not any more food, I assure you. We need to let you digest all this.” She waved a hand at his gut. “You wouldn’t survive outside my realm with the way we have you stuffed. And that’s not the point of the punishment. So I’ll help out.”

Corbin nodded and attempted to relax.

When the spirit placed her hands on his gut again, Corbin threw his head back and moaned. He had been right, he had been so, so right. Her hands on his overtaxed skin were divine. Though he swore he was right on the edge of orgasm, he never made it. A feeling like the warmth and sleepiness of months of good meals overtook him, and his head sagged back down, eyes half-lidded.

He made a questioning sound, but the spirit stepped back and merely observed.

Trying to shake the cobwebs from his head, Corbin attempted to figure out what was happening. It became clear when the weight pulling against him began to lessen, and he was surprised to see his stomach slowly receding. How quick! He thought he’d have to digest for days, at least, but here was more of the spirit’s magic at work. He thought he might be done within a quarter of an hour at the rate it was shrinking.

Of course, that wasn’t the only effect on his body.

He expected he would be satisfied from such a hearty meal, but the sharp angles of the rest of his body began to fill out even as his gut shrank. He’d be healthier when he left, that was certain.

Corbin was so close to considering it a gesture of pure kindness when it kept going. And going. His arms and legs gaining more fat, he liked. Even the amounts covering his ribs and presumably his back as well--even his hips--he thought were for the best. He’d have to get used to his new shape when sneaking around, but he would be far more comfortable than before. At least if he was able to keep to his plans and get money for food and clothes.

Ah, clothes. Well, what bits were still on him fit better than before, considering they were loose then. If he had to loosen his belt once he got it back, so be it.

But it wasn’t just that his body was gaining more curves.

As his gut spread more evenly over his body, he noticed an itchy sensation spreading across his skin. First, he assumed it was movement of the food and fat. Then he saw little dark bits climbing up along his chest. More hair, he’d thought next, which could also be a sign of health and was not unwelcome. But then they kept growing and flared out into obvious shapes.

They were feathers.

Feathers grew on his chest. Corbin couldn’t stop looking down at them, then noticed the same happening to his legs, the itching culminating in feathers pushing from his skin.

His breathing grew more rapidly as his feathers did, the itch spreading across part of his back, then up his arms and even to his head. He could feel where the feathers rubbed against the restraints, or clothes, or each other. He tried to move, to get away from the spirit who stood watching him with a placid expression when he heard a click and felt an odd sensation on his toes.

His feet had little claws instead of toenails. Was- Was she going to turn him into a bird?!

“No,” he said, voice faint. Corbin felt as though he was floating above his own body, all sensation distant. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to be a turkey. He didn’t want to become something else, to lose himself.

Brown and black feathers had covered his chest, trailing down where hair used to be. His legs were the same, and he presumed the rest of his body had followed. Only scarce patches of skin remained visible.

A sharp pain briefly brought him back to himself, and he screamed. Luckily, it lasted for only a few moments and he caught his breath. It had come from his back, close to his butt. What now?

He went to ask the harvest spirit, but in his distress, his words same out garbled. He tried again, but the second time it didn’t even sound human.

Taking a breath, Corbin tried to just _speak_. “What have you don-” The rest of the words came out garbled. No, more like, a gobble?

He sounded like a turkey. Corbin could have cried if he wasn’t in shock.

If he shook his head back and forth, he could feel the little pocket of skin under his chin, like a turkey’s. The only, very small, consolation was that he felt nothing odd around his nose or mouth.

“Almost done with this,” the spirit encouraged.

Corbin felt long feathers brush against his thighs. He looked back, a feat considering his bound position and new plumpness, and saw he had grown a long set of tail feathers. He squeezed his eyes shut.

The last things he felt were pinches around his hips and thighs as they grew just a bit more, the feeling of bone growing making him squeeze his eyes harder. Eventually, it settled down.

“Well,” said the spirit, though Corbin couldn’t look at her. “This looks good. Especially around your hips.”

Corbin bit back a yelp at the feeling of the spirit rolling his hips between her hands.

“Yes, this will definitely help the last bit of your punishment.”

“Last bit?” Corbin asked. His voice was rough and flat, defeated.

“Yes, only one last thing. The ‘dealing with the food’s effects’ part. It’s also a sort of offering to me for forgiveness. I think that’s fitting, don’t you?”

Corbin didn’t answer.

The spirit sighed and patted one of his cheeks. “You hurt and kidnapped a child,” she chastised. “You turned my place of worship from a sanctuary to that of fear. All because you were too proud to ask for help. Am I wrong?”

She wasn’t. Corbin said nothing, still. He just wanted it to be over with.

“No remorse.” The spirit sounded disappointed. “But I won’t have you suffering the same situation as before, nor inflicting the same misfortunes you were. This should take care of both.”

When Corbin opened his eyes, he was met with the spirit’s. They were sympathetic, but firm in her decision. She stepped back again, and the kidnapper nearly panicked right then.

And yet, the effects were not what Corbin expected. Instead of shrinking, or his arms turning into wings, or anything more bird-like, he felt a push in his stomach.

It had never completely shrunk down from the food stuffed into it, but it had appeared like just an amount of flab one could get from eating sweet breads regularly. Now it began to rapidly expand, pushing out the way it had when he was full of food.

He grunted at it, wondering why it was going back to the same as before; the spirit had no need to distribute it if that was the case. Something was different.

The lump rising from his midsection was not lumpy or soft like with his food. There had been pressure from his organs before, or course, but he could tell there had been give from the separate pieces within him. This though, this was completely solid.

One large, rounded object grew within him, quickly expanding his belly and pulling on new stretch marks.

Like before, he felt no true pain from his internal body and skin being stretched so quickly. That didn’t mean, of course, that it wasn’t distressing. It pushed out until it was the same size as his gut before, but smoother in shape, jutting straight out like a pregnancy.

Corbin let out breathy noises and felt his dick scraping against his re-emerging dome.

Finally, when he looked like a woman preparing to give birth, the growth stopped. The spirit came up again, feeling around his stomach.

The blissful feeling knocked any questions Corbin would have tried to ask straight from his head. His skin was so taught, and he was so heavy. He wanted, no, needed to be touched. He needed to be soothed until it could come out.

...Come out?

The strange thought floated through his head, but he could only barely acknowledge it over the tingling of his belly. It felt so odd with fingers also carding through his feathers, but he couldn’t help making a few pleased bird noises at it. The feathers covered his belly mostly near the top, leaving a lot of the sides and bottom exposed.

After making a few more sounds, he finally managed to utter the word, “What?”

“Your offering!” the spirit said, as if that would explain everything. “You have an egg to lay for me.”

Corbin’s eyes widened as his heart stuttered. Even through the blissful haze of being massaged, he managed to give several distressed warbles and say, “No.”

“Sorry hun. You desecrated my temple, and treated another human life like simple goods to be traded. You’re going to lay an egg for me every harvest. Maybe that’ll keep you out of trouble again, huh?”

“Lay? Egg?” he struggled to say.

But it appeared Corbin had no words to disagree with the spirit. She leaned down to spread his legs apart, and he felt a slick sort of pop as something… opened?

Whatever it was, it was responsive to the air temperature, and he shivered. The spirit kept him in a stable position and poked around. She eventually touched near the newly sensitive area and Corbin mewled at the sensation, electricity running through his nerves.

“Perfect. Let’s begin,” said the spirit.

Corbin had only a moment to compose himself, and suddenly he felt his muscles contracting, pushing heavily on the egg sitting within him. He would have expected such a feeling to be painful, but instead, it coincided with the tensing he felt in his groin, and suddenly he was right on the cusp of orgasm again, climbing steadily up to the peak.

All manner of embarrassing sounds left Corbin as the egg moved lower and lower, but the harvest spirit seemed uninterested in his plight. Her focus was between his legs, and she occasionally adjusted his stance or rubbed over his abdomen or hips.

“Doing well,” she encouraged.

“Haannhh,” Corbin moaned in response.

He was eventually moved to where he was almost squatting, his legs very far apart and slightly bent, only held up by his own arms and those of the harvest spirit.

The egg had sunk lower in an impossible time, leaving Corbin with no time for thoughts or worries, only sensation. The pressure sliding through him was indescribable; It left him feeling bolts of pleasure from everything it squeezed past, and when the egg reached the final part near his nethers, the stretch was beyond belief. It was no wonder the spirit had wished for his hips to grow out so far.

The egg spread out his- what was it? Did he have a hole for eggs like birds did? Well, a delightful feeling spread up through him as the egg spread it wider and wider. He only barely noticed the spirit’s words through his pleading and moans of ecstasy.

“Just crowning, you’re close.”

His dick twitched as the egg pressed harder and harder on that spot of sheer, overwhelming pleasure inside him. Corbin cried out, his muscles spasming as they attempted to continue laying while contending with such feeling.

He could feel the egg was partially out already, but it was only growing wider as it went.

“H-help me!” he cried.

“I am,” said the spirit, still placid.

Corbin made a gurgling and chirping noise before begging, “Touch me.”

The spirit hummed, but did move her hand around, for the first time coming in direct contact with his penis. Corbin wanted to shout to the heavens, but the bolt of orgasm which struck him rendered him mute, gasping through it.

It felt as though every nerve in his body was alight with fire, sparking with white-hot intensity which swept through him like an autumn storm.

For what was an eternity and a couple minutes, Corbin was completely lost to the world, drowning in sensation as his dick unloaded spunk until it could no more.

When Corbin came back to himself--slowly, in increments--he blinked, his head lolling down.

The spirit was still there, between his legs. He was limp, but the muscles in his lower abdomen still worked furiously, dragging out his post-orgasm high. The spirit grabbed what looked like a large, speckled brown egg and gave it a wiggle. Corbin whimpered as it pulled at the rim of his slit, sending little sparks trailing up and down.

Clenching his hands, he gave one final push, and he swore he heard almost a pop as it slid from him. He breathed a sigh of relief, legs trembling from the ordeal.

“Beautiful,” said the spirit. “This is a good start.”

A good start? Oh, great heavens, help him. He was expected to do this every year? Corbin let out a breathy little laugh, incredulous and despairing all at once.

After setting the egg on a bed of plush grass--where had that come from?--the spirit patted his head, seeming to know his thoughts.

“You won’t be alone for this. I expect the townspeople are actually going to be more than pleased to have you around.”

At this, she released his bindings, carefully assisting him as he sat on the floor. Corbin finally got his first look at his arms, noting, yes, they were in fact covered in the same feathers as the rest of him. Touching his head revealed feathers growing sparsely alongside his hair.

He examined the rest of himself and found all the other feathers and the accumulated fat still there. It appeared the spirit would not remove any of it.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?” the spirit inquired. “You already know why I’ve done this. Anyway! The folks in the nearby towns should realize what this means.”

At “this” she gestured to Corbin.

“You will be placed right back in the temple I took you from. This close to harvest time? It’ll be clear who was involved.” She smiled a self-satisfied grin. “I expect you’ll act as both a warning and a sign of blessing. A sort of symbol of, well, me.”

How would this help him? Teach him a lesson?

The harvest spirit moved around Corbin, brushing over his feathers in a way which made him shiver. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be used to having them. Or having… He touched around the area the egg had come from. He couldn’t find it. Surprised, he rubbed back and forth, but other than some sensitivity and swelling, the area showed no signs of any sort of slit.

“Hm? Oh, you only needed that for the egg you know. Unless?”

Corbin shook his head desperately.

“Alright. Anyway, it’ll be like today. It’ll show up for the egg laying and be gone. Of course, the egg won’t grow so fast either, around a week, so you’ll have more time to get used to it. I can’t stick around and give you my magic every year.” She patted his head and pulled him up to his feet. “I have a lot of other duties to attend to. Just remember to eat plenty of food to support the egg and yourself. The townspeople should be more than generous, given the timing of its arrival each year.”

Corbin felt as if he was in the center of a storm, the spirit’s voice like wind howling around him. She tugged on his clothes to get them settled back in place. It was as Corbin had thought, they fit far better now that he was not starving.

There were problems with his feathers and tail, so he had to wear his pants lower and hope his tunic covered the rest. And he would not be able to get true shoes thanks to his toe claws, but he hadn’t owned any for sometime.

“This might only be temporary anyway,” the spirit said. Her voice sounded as though she was attempting to be reassuring. “The people of nearby towns may wish to offer you nice, ceremonial clothes.”

Corbin tried to imagine it. People who had known him, or dismissed him, offering him food, clothes, and shelter. Actually looking at him without disgust. He wasn’t sure if it would be anything better than curiosity or duty which drove them, but found he still couldn’t imagine people being willfully kind to him without any extortion on his part.

He looked to the spirit. Her gaze was steady, her body as a tree which had weathered a thousand winters.

“It’s a punishment,” she reminded him, “but it’s also a new start.”

And with that, his vision blurred and he was falling again, the room spinning wildly in every direction until he was on his hands and knees back at the temple.

He heard shouting, and looked up, finding himself surrounded by wary and shocked faces. Well, looked like it was time to start his new life.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy American Thanksgiving! ...Don't look at me that way, you made it to the end. So it's gotta be better than rehashed family drama, am I right?
> 
> Stay healthy y'all.


End file.
